


The actors are come hither

by entanglement



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglement/pseuds/entanglement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>agent budge and agent pepper finish their report</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when one can not

Inmate number 2014058580 keeps Agent Budge and Agent Pepper waiting for almost an hour.

"We're awake," Budge says confidently and his long-suffering partner sighs and merely nods in agreement. Considering how early it is, it would be easy to doze off a little.

More silence. Employees move through the metal detector at the front of the intake area of the prison, pick up briefcases and lunchboxes from the window on the other side and depart with a quiet, courteous greeting. The repetition makes it seem bizarre and detached from normal human interaction. It baffles Pepper that no one really seems to notice it.

"Can you remember how we got here, though?" Pepper muses. It really must be early if he's starting to sound like his partner.

"Yeah, of course. I woke up at 5:30. Took a shower. Ate breakfast. I remember saving a coupon insert for greek yogurt from the morning newspaper," Budge lists, counting out each task on his fingers, "Of course I remember how we got here."

"Right," Pepper replies. 

"It creates toxic waste, by the way," Budge adds. 

Pepper turns and stares for a minute, lost. "Toxic.. waste? What does?"

"Greek yogurt. The acid whey-," Budge starts before a door opening beside them brings in a corrections officer, motioning to follow. 

The two Agents follow the officer down the hall and into an interview room only shortly before the person they've come to see joins them. He's shuffled in and the chains connecting his wrists are threaded through the table in front of him before he sits and looks the two agents over with only a vague expression of recognition. He's only been here for a month or two and he doesn't particularly look like a hardened criminal, but the lines in his face are deeper and his blonde hair looks duller and specked with more white than before.

"Hello, Mr. Nygaard. We have some questions to wrap up our report," Budge says. He places a thick folder, stuffed to the gills with paperwork on the table.

"It's about him, right? If I-" Lester begins shakily. He seems to be self-conscious of the tremor that's still in his voice because he stops for a moment to close his eyes and still his thoughts before continuing, "if I had anything I could tell you, my lawyer would've already used it."

"I don't know why he'd want to keep secrets for someone that put him in jail," Pepper says to his partner rather than Lester.

"Yeah, that tape really screwed him, didn't it?" Budge chuckles. He opens up the folder and tosses a photo on the table. It's a bear trap on a bedroom floor, soaked in blood with bits of flesh on its teeth. "Maybe he thinks he's gonna get outta here and finish what he started."

"Maybe. Doubt it, though. Remind me when he's up for parole?"

"Look. I was just defending myself from a madman. He killed my wife. Both of my wives, actually," Lester insists. Even with obvious evidence against him, Lester still has the nerve to lie.

The agents, seeing they're not going to get anywhere with Lester, stand and leave him hunched over the table and trying his best to fake a few tears.

 

\--

 

"From what I hear, Lester isn't making too many friends in prison," Molly sighs. 

"He's been in solitary. Nearly got himself killed in a little lunchroom brawl last week," Pepper says.

This doesn't induce any trace of a smile in Molly, but if the agents weren't there, she'd probably allow herself at least a small grin. She'd regret it later like someone regrets an extra scoop of ice cream or a particularly large slice of cake, but not a single soul in Bemidji would blame her for being pleased with putting away Lester Nygaard. She'll still be the chief of police after the current chief retires. She'll still be something of a town celebrity because of her bravery. There will still be the same adoring look on her husband's face like the one from when he bid her goodbye and made his way out to work, leaving the three of them to talk. 

She watches Gus get into the mail truck from the kitchen window as she pours coffee and then turns from the counter to place two mismatched mugs onto the table in front of the agents. One has a United States Postal Service logo and the other has a cartoony drawing of an orange tabby cat curled up, asleep. Pepper reaches across for the USPS mug.

"I'm surprised that Malvo fella didn't get himself arrested just to give Lester a hard time. Gotta know when to fold 'em, I guess. I really wish I could give you boys somethin' to go on, but we haven't heard a peep. I doubt he's gonna let himself be anything more than an urban legend around here," Molly says. She almost looks like she's yearning for something, but any lack of fulfillment seems gone when she glances over to her sleeping baby in her swing chair beside the table.

"I'm sorry we have to close the file with Malvo still out there. Maybe if Lester didn't think they were buddies, we'd have something. Maybe some way to find him," Budge says.

Molly waves away the apology and picks up her own mug, an over sized one with "Cops Do It By The Book" in a goofy, colorful font, and takes a long sip from it. They really didn't get much of a chance to bond, but somehow, seeing Molly like this makes the fact that they'll be going home to file paperwork in the basement of an FBI building after this case is finished a little less difficult to swallow.

"Oh! I have one for ya," Molly says. She gets up from the table to go over to pluck off one of the sticky notes attached to her fridge. Upon returning, she gestures towards Budge and settles back down into her chair. "You're the one that likes riddles, right? Here goes then: What's greater than God and more evil than the devil? The poor have it, the rich need it and if you eat it, you'll die."

Budge smiles, but Pepper does not. Molly folds the paper neatly and places it in front of the agents for when they need to know the answer.


	2. two eyes, like stars, start

The call home must've not gone well, because Pepper looks even grumpier than usual when he settles into his chair across from Budge. A little over a year since their last assignment is evidence enough of a career that's dead in the water, but that doesn't stop their superior from finding new and creative ways to remind them of that failure. Although that's enough cause to bring anyone's blood to a boil, that still doesn't distract from the truth. Malvo's trail is cold and it's time to go home.

"Still awake," Pepper sighs.

"Unfortunately," Budge replies. He winces at the menu he has laid out on the table for close study.

"Remember what I told you. Random code inspections. Just keep thinking of random code inspections."

"What if he's paying off the guy from the health department?"

Pepper takes a slow look around at the inside of Lou's Restaurant. There are aging wooden figurines of birds on the wall with cracking paint and the counter has assorted pies under glass with wedges cut away from them. He looks down at the menu where mildly unappetizing pictures of things like club sandwiches, slices of meatloaf and overcooked spaghetti dotting each page. Places like this always have a hidden layer of grime that persists no matter how hard things are scrubbed, because you can't wipe away the time from objects. Sometimes things are just worn down and sometimes there isn't the money there to replace them. Maybe that's what Budge is worried about.

"Pretty sure he's not paying off the guy from the health department."

"What if he's friends with him? You know these kinds of places. Everyone's friends. They go to each others kids' soccer games and invite each other to cookouts and.." Budge trails off when he looks up to see the deflated look on his partner's face. "What did he say?"

"He said we need to stop pretending to be field agents and come back to the office to finish and file our report," Pepper mutters.

"Maybe it's not so bad, y'know. Maybe we'll find a foothold someplace else." 

Budge's optimism is hardly reassuring for both of them and they lapse into a sort of depressed silence until Budge's phone interrupts. He glances at the phone and his brows crease as soon as he sees the call is from Deputy Solverson.

"Hello?" he answers quietly to avoid disturbing the diners around them.

"Greta, come over here and show me how to work this- Hello? Agent Budge?" Molly asks once the phone is back to her ear.

"Is everything okay, Deputy?"

"I just saw something on one of the local stations here. You're not gonna believe this. I already called over St. Cloud, but they're just.. unhelpful. Said they'd have a detective review it within a couple days. Can you believe that? I can't do anything because of jurisdiction, y'know and jeez, I'm technically on leave with the baby. There. Sent it to Pepper," Molly babbles as she and Greta fuss with some unknown object that Molly doesn't seem to understand how to use. 

It seems the object is Greta's smartphone because moments later, a text buzzes in on Pepper's phone from an unknown number. He places the phone onto the table so they both can watch.

The video starts abruptly in the middle of a car dealership commercial on Molly's TV: "-serving the north central United States with the lowest prices!" a voice brightly exclaims with "Lowest Prices!!" in yellow text over an American flag. Just then, the screen splits into four frames with their sales team in each location: Minneapolis, Duluth, Grand Forks and St. Cloud. They're all standing outside of four different dealerships, waving at the camera. A DVR menu pops up and the screen is frozen so that Molly can take a step forward and give the agents a closer look at one of the teams.

In the back of the crowd of friendly-looking salespeople in the frame for St. Cloud, a clean-shaven, blonde Lorne Malvo smiles ahead.

\--

St. Cloud is 2 hours and 35 minutes away by car and there's no deliberation on whether they should go or not.

Obviously, catching Malvo is not a ticket back to their old work, but it's something to do. It's a tiny shift and if they can't move back up, they might as well move someplace. It's dangerous. No, it's ridiculously dangerous, but the possibility of some form of redemption takes the edge off the fear. Still, the residual effects are clear. Pepper's hands shake slightly at the driving wheel of Budge's car as they merge onto the interstate.

Molly's voice, hushed away as much as possible from Greta's ears, saying, "Catch the bastard," plays over and over in Budge's mind. He doesn't mention this to Pepper. He sees the tremor in his partner's hands and besides, what they know so far is sufficient enough to feel like they're on a mission. 

"I've decided. We're obviously dreaming," Budge says as he fusses with a pill case full of his vitamins that he pulled from the glove box.

"You're not serious."

"There's no possible way that something this coincidental happens in real life."

Finally, the pill case yields and Budge holds up a large, golden colored pill filled with flax seed oil before popping it into his mouth. The B-12, Iodine, Calcium and Vitamin D come next and he pops them all in before swallowing them all with a large swig of water.

Pepper tries to focus on the road, but he can't help watching Budge until a thought dawns on him, "You're afraid of death."

"So are you," Budge quickly counters.

"What? I'm-"

"No, you are. Everyone is. There are just people like myself that try harder to delay it."

"It's still eventually going to happen."

"Lots of things are going to happen," Budge says, stifling an incredulous laugh before continuing, "Eventually, you'll die. I'll die. Everyone anyone has ever loved or hated will die. The sun will eventually swallow up the planet whether we're corpses or not. Delaying it is exactly that. Delaying it. It's not refusing it completely. If you think about it, the fact that I acknowledge it and take steps to avoid it as best I can is a lot more accepting than to just shrug it off as an inevitability, cross your fingers and hope for the best."

"We could both die today," Pepper says.

"Yeah," Budge sighs as the weight of that thought settles over his expression and creases his brow, "It's not worth getting depressed over, though."


	3. three thousand crowns

Lorne Malvo learns how to shoot a gun when he's 11 years old.

It's a rifle designed for children, so it's small in his father's big hands as he positions it in Lorne's and guides the butt to his shoulder. The caramel colored walnut of the stock matches his father's and when the gun is in his hands, Lorne feels distinctly like his father's son for the first time. It only intensifies when he fires it, planting a bullet near center target on his first try. His father beams with pride for days.

It's a slow progression upwards from there: A few rabbits in the vegetable garden that his mother cries over when she finds him burying them. A 10-point buck, picked off after hours in a hunting blind. At the tail end of Vietnam, a man who didn't quite seem to understand how to use his own gun. Dozens more after that. Their faces stare back at him when he closes his eyes at night, but it's not guilt he feels for them. Death is necessary. When one is marked for death, one must die. Why not make a some profit off it in the process?

It's a good thing morality doesn't hold him back because in this life, he's a used car salesman.

The bounty, a bookish woman that oversees financing, is worth $175k. She's an ambitious target not only because of the heat he had on him not too long ago, but also because of the US marshalls she's got assigned under witness protection sitting outside of the dealership, trying their best to look inconspicuous. They never do.

Then there's the competition. If this amount of money is on the line, you'll have all kinds of amateurs coming out of the woodwork, but they're all the kinda guys that don't know how to navigate any situation that doesn't call for a sloppy smash and grab job. They'll hover on the sidelines, waiting for the same moment where the mark will be vulnerable, but Lorne will already be there and waiting in much closer proximity. 

It must be his ego that brings him here. He's still got a limp from Lester's bear trap, but it's his pride that's still recovering. He never plays any games this fast and loose, but the desire to remind himself of his capabilities trumps all. Unfortunately, that recklessness brings two familiar faces to St. Cloud that he recognizes sitting outside the dealership one morning when he arrives. The obvious choice for him here would be to get the hell out of St. Cloud and find another game, but instead, he gets back in his car and leads the agents back to his house.

\--

(Eight Months Earlier)

Lester's new home at the outskirts of Bemidji really is beautiful. Seated on a clearing in the snow, it looks like a castle in the clouds. It also has multiple entry points that two bumbling FBI agents in a car in the driveway can hardly guard alone, so Lorne easily enters in through one and finds Lester in the kitchen, watching out the window over the back yard.

"Hello, Lester," he drawls as he gives his surroundings a slow once over. His gaze rests on the knife block on the counter just as Lester attempts to surreptitiously slide a knife from it.

"Don't come any closer," Lester growls. Well, tries to growl. When he spins around, chef's knife in hand, the look on his face defies whatever malice he's tried to inject into his voice. Lorne only gives him a tired sigh in response before nodding down to the silenced gun in his hand. 

"I just wanna chat," Lorne says as he carefully crosses the kitchen to slide onto one of the stools at the other side of the counter. 

"The two agents.. out front."

"Still sitting out front. Arguing, I think. I'd suggest not interrupting them," Lorne says. Obviously, Lester will debate the matter internally and look like a frightened chihuahua in the process, so Lorne adds, "I'm not gonna stop you if you wanna raise your body count."

Lester's eyes flick to the kitchen door and despite the slight side to side shake of Lorne's head, he still bolts through the door and up the stairs towards his bedroom.

Meanwhile, Budge and Pepper were actually arguing. 

Backup was due in Bemidji already, but they weren't there when they called in to the station to make sure they'd made it there. An agent on his own would call back to the office and see if the original request for backup got to the right place, but the two of them obviously couldn't not bicker about whether the original call was placed or not. 

"Maybe they just forgot to call in," Budge says.

"No way. These guys don't sneeze without getting clearance," Pepper replies as he finally starts to comb through the contacts in his phone, looking for the main office number. Just as he selects it, a scream and a few gunshots erupt from inside the house.

The two agents freeze, but only for a second before they both jump out of the car and head inside, weapons drawn.

They follow a loud groan up the stairs to where Lester is on the bedroom floor in a scatter of glass, pawing at his head where his Salesman of the Year award connected with it. Through the punch drunk haze he can only mutter, "Malvo. Hey. Watch," when Budge nearly steps into the bear trap on his floor that he obviously didn't warn his assailant to dodge. Budge continues on to Lester as he pulls out his phone to dial for an ambulance, but a cassette tape on the bed with "LESTER NYGAARD" printed neatly on the label catches Pepper's eye.


	4. four successive kings

The house is a log cabin nestled into the trees outside of the city where there are stretches of snowy fields and scattered bits of wooded areas between houses. Budge and Pepper don't bother to go inside, because once they get out of the car and look down at the snow outside the gravel driveway, there are two sets of tracks in the snow. One set is newer, probably Malvo's, and the other set is larger with a longer stride than Malvo's. They lead off behind the house towards a shed just barely obstructed by a few trees.

Without a word, Pepper starts to follow them, but Budge grabs his arm to stop him.

"What if it's a trap?" Budge says. His eyes nervously scan the area for any sign of an ambush. 

"Do you want me to go alone?" Pepper sighs.

"No. Of course not."

The agreement sets them off on the footsteps' path, Budge looking behind and Pepper looking ahead as they slowly make their way towards the shed.

"Nothing," Pepper mutters.

"What's that?"

"It's nothing. Greater than god. More evil than the devil. That riddle Solverson gave you."

"Huh. Remind me to check later," Budge replies.

There's a few minutes of silence where the only sounds are the soft crunch of snow under their feet.

"Why are we here? There's gotta be a moment where we missed our chance to say no to all of this," Budge muses.

A grunt from inside the shed stops the the agents and Budge spins around to point his gun at what opens the door and comes out. Neither of them are prepared for what does.

"Holy. Shit," Pepper chokes out.

The whiteboard at the Bemidji police station immediately pops into Budge's mind and he spits out the words under the picture: "Deaf fella!"

The front of the hitman's fringe jacket and the shirt underneath are covered in blood and he's holding a hooked hunting knife that's still dripping. Despite all this, he doesn't look threatening. He's got a pained, but relieved look on his face like a man vindicated and now that he has no need for it, the knife just slips from his fingers and falls into the snow. 

"We didn't even have to be-," Budge begins.

He doesn't finish.

\--

When someone's marked for death, they have to die.

Malvo's dead, obviously, but he wasn't dead just moments ago. He'd managed to clutch his slit throat for just long enough to aimlessly fire off a handful of shots through the shed door. Most of them missed, but three did not.

Out in the middle of nowhere, a gunshot wound that most people would survive can become fatal while waiting for an ambulance, but Budge still fumbles for his phone and calls 911 for one. There's really nothing else to do. Neither of them can even stand, let alone make it back to the car and it's not like deaf fella is in any shape to help them either. He's face down in the snow just ahead with a spray of blood and skull fragments peppering the ground in front of him.

"Check it. The answer," Pepper mumbles once his partner's done choking out the address to the 911 operator.

Budge lets his phone drop into the snow and pulls the piece of paper from his coat pocket. It's stained with blood, but the ink from Molly's pen is black and he can still make out her handwriting. He nods to his partner and they both manage a raspy chuckle.

It isn't too long before they can hear an ambulance's siren out in the distance, but there's really no telling how far away it is.


End file.
